There is a scene in Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's book "Good Omens" (ISBN 0441003257, required reading, very funny) where the demon's car is speeding along on fire, held together by sheer willpower, until he comes grinding to a halt at his destination, whereupon the entire thing collapses into a pile of parts.
That was me Sunday afternoon.
I escaped the shoot at about 2:30, a few hours after I had hoped to get home, and fought my way home through a grinding headache. By propping my head up on the headrest I could just stand to remain conscious to do this.
I came home, hit the couch, and slept a fitful sleep for two and a half hours, ate dinner, and then blew off the thousand and one tasks crying for attention and watched a movie ("The Village" by M. Night Shyamalan, beautiful cinematography, lame start with wooden dialog, got really good by the end) and went to bed.
I feel, again, almost human. This almost-human state seems to come come in fits and starts.
In my extended absence from domestic normality, our front yard as frayed into a sight that is bringing complaints from the neighborhood mafia, er, association. Fair enough. We'll deal with it over the next few days.
Next weekend, though, is a large and difficult effect that I have yet to create, so I'm pretty much panicked right now. I hope I can get it done.
On the bright side, once I get through this one I'm done with all of the really hard stuff and mostly get to repeat existing gags. So that's cool.
And, I guess, I'll be doing stuff for work to justify my pay. Which I should be doing now...
Posted by Edwin at June 13, 2005 07:52 AM